Thoughts on coffee

Are we what we drink?
Am I a bipolar if I alternately prefer mellow skim latte and tongue-numbing espresso?

I am not a coffee snob by any means. If I go to 1369, an independent coffee shop in Cambridge more than the Starbuck down the street, mostly because it's one block closer to my house, plus the guys who make coffee there are kind of cute.
I don't shun Starbuck by any means, not when I am in need of a C-boost. While the omnipresence of the green logo on American cityscape does take away the delusion of an exclusive taste, there is no statistics based on blind tasting showing which coffee is superior. I certainly don't think it necessary to elevate the phenomena of its popularity into the demise of our contemporary culture. (like we still can't accept who we are as Americans?) But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the coffee culture in places like France or Italy, but again, those are foreign countries where straight men appear gay and talk about operas.
The rule is that I basically submit to my physical needs, wherever, whenever. How can a beggar be a chooser?

In China, my conquest for good coffee has been proven as a lost battle. Obviously, Chinese don't drink coffee on a national level, and on rare occasion when they do, it morphs into something else. I learned this during my recent China trip.
To begin with, it was hard to find a serious cafe in China. Coffee tends to be treated as a marginal drink, confused with cocktails, or a kind of capitalist lifestyle in general. It was presented in tall glasses, garnished with twisted straws, and came with shocking price tag. Most of all, the names were as puzzling. Latte is translated into iron-holding. I got that because it was phonetic, but what kind of coffee is Palm Tree Sunset? or Love in Paris?

It may sound surprising, but the most expensive coffee I have ever had in my life was not in Paris, nor Rome, but in an airport coffee shop in GuiLin. The cocktail-wanna-be cost me 9 US dollars and tasted funny. In Chuongqing Airport I had to submit to another craving and had no choice but to settle with Hagan-Das's ice latte. I was served in the style of a high-end restaurant. It was a sweet flute-y drink, from which I did obtained enough caffeine to go on. I was told that I could have the table all to myself as long as I want because of my consumption of the drink. Clearly, in addition to the coffee, I also paid for a piece of temporary real estate, an oasis in a chaotic and noisy airport.
When I got to the Hongkong airport at the end of my trip, I was almost in tears to see the green fairy logo of STARBUCK.
No more guessing of what I would get! With 4 dollars, I got my skim latte, and with the first sip, a familiar taste enthralled my being. Consistency never felt so good.
Right there, I regained myself and officially started my journey home.